A Fallacy in Your Head
by lottielovebuzz
Summary: When paying rent gets too hard for Dean, his brother Sam convinces him to find a roommate, someone to share the load and strain with. Dean's hesitant but his brother's the smart one, so why not? After interviewing far too many people, Dean's ready to give up and of course, that's when the struggling author Castiel enters.
1. Chapter I: Start the Fire

_**this was originally supposed to be for the DCBB but i dropped out and yeah... now i'm posting it chapter by chapter! hope you enjoy! :D**_

_**beta'd by my lovely friend Tiana (splendorsofalandslide - do you know how hard it was for me to remember that's your new url?)**_

* * *

**A Fallacy in Your Head.**

**Chapter I: Start the Fire.**

The guitar lies on the floor beside the couch and his hand outstretched towards it, almost as if he was trying to stop it from falling. The soft rumble of snores is the only sound in the room, and when he shifts on the couch, moving into a more comfortable position, his fingers brush over the strings of the instrument.

The sudden change in texture against his fingertips isn't enough to wake him, however, and after he turns so he's facing the back of the couch, he soon forgets about the strumming sound that came from the guitar when he touched it. He manages to fall back asleep after that, familiar dreams filling his mind as he slumbers; dreams of being on a stage in a sold-out stadium, with his friends playing their instruments by his side; dreams of seeing thousands upon thousands of people singing along to his songs; dancing along to his guitar solo.

The dream is definitely his most common one, but it's not the only one that plagues his unconsciousness; the other is the sight of him and a faceless, nameless person, living in a cosy house, with kids running around and playing in the pool. He's clearly no longer living in New York City, and he can't blame his dreams for escaping the "centre of the universe." Sometimes he finds himself wondering why the hell he's still there, seeing as the rent is sky-high and the people are douches and there's no way his dreams will ever come true.

So no, he can never blame himself for creating a "normal" life for him, even though he knows that it's never going to happen.

Which is proven when he's woken up by a constant pounding, a knocking at the door that makes his entire head throb. The banging doesn't let up one bit. The constant thump, thump, thump reverberating inside his head, and Dean can't help the groan that breaks free from his lips as he throws a hand over his head, trying to muffle the sound.

As if the person at the door knows what he just did, the banging gets louder, and Dean groans again.

He swallows hard before he manages to force his eyes open, turning back around so he can look at the door, and he can practically see it _jump _from the force of the asshole's knocking.

And they're not going away any time soon, he knows that's a fact.

'Fuck this,' he mutters, before he pulls himself into a sitting position, swinging his feet around and setting them on the ground, only to bring them back up a moment later when he realises that he was close to standing on his baby. He leans down and picks the guitar up, trailing his hand along her shiny black body, before he sighs and sets her on the sofa beside him.

He stands then, running a hand through his hair as he makes his way to the door, getting closer and closer to the banging and he wishes he had brought his baby with him, so he could smash it over the assholes head. Who the hell _does _this?

As soon as he can, Dean pulls the door of his apartment open, sliding it along with a grunt from both the heaviness of the door, and the fact that he's still pissed at whoever is at the other side of the metal. He's actually sorely tempted to throw punches first and ask questions later.

But he realises just how stupid and reckless that would be, so instead, he just puts on his best glare before he's fully opened on the door, which turns to one of pure hatred when he sees who was pounding the door.

'What the hell do you want?' He sneers, moving over to stand in the space that the open door created before he crosses his arms over his chest.

'Nice to see you too, Squirrel,' Crowley grins, and Dean wishes that he had a different landlord, just so he didn't have to listen to the smarmy bastard with his British accent and his stupid comebacks. 'However, for the sake of this conversation, I'd suggest speaking to me nicely. I want the rent.'

The glare falls off Dean's face then. He bites his lower lip, rolling the flesh between his teeth before he puts on a smile.

'Crowley…'

'Stow it,' Crowley snaps before Dean can even get another word out. 'The money, Winchester. I've got people breathing down my neck for their money, so to pay them, I need you to pay _me_. So, cough up.'

Dean looks at him, trying to plead with him without actually getting down on his hands and knees, but Crowley just tilts his head, his lips pulling into a ridiculously wide smile that makes Dean clench his jaw so hard a muscle twitches.

His hand goes straight to his back pocket, and he pulls out his wallet and flips it open.

'Fuck.' He mutters when he gets the confirmation of what he thought… he has no money in his wallet. No little dollar hidden away; nothing. He lifts his head back up to Crowley, plastering a small smile on his lips as he does so. 'Crowley…' he tries again, but the short Englishman just rolls his eyes, and it's enough to make Dean's sentence die on his lips.

'You don't have it, do you?' Crowley enquires, his eyes narrowing almost dangerously at Dean.

'No, but I can -'

'What did I tell you about stowing it, Winchester?' Crowley mutters darkly. 'I want you out by the end of the week.'

Crowley turns then, but Dean grabs ahold of his arm and spins him back around.

'What do you mean? You're throwing me out? You can't do that!'

'I'm the landlord, and you haven't paid your rent. I think you'll find I can. Out by the week, Squirrel.' Crowley grins before he pulls his hand arm from Dean's grasp and disappears down the hall, leaving Dean alone in the apartment with worry eating away at him.

How… he just can't throw him out without a notice or anything, right? That's just not the way things work! Surely not. Dean turns around and looks back into his apartment.

Sure, it's not much, there's only two shitty bedrooms, a tiny kitchen and his living room is mainly a couch that he uses as a bed, and his guitar and its equipment, but it was _home_. It was what he was used to and what he had built all by himself. It was what he and _Benny _had built before… he shakes his head.

'One fuck-up at a time, Dean!' He snaps, deciding that there's no point in thinking about that now. He's got enough to deal with… such as apparently getting evicted from his apartment with no notice whatsoever. He's actually tempted to grab ahold of something and send it flying against the wall, because he wants to _break _something, but then he remembers that everything in this fucking place is his, not Crowley's so it'd only hurt him.

He gives a shout of anger before he turns back into the apartment, and when his eyes scan the room, they land on the small photo that sits on the table at the end of the couch; the one that was taken when Sammy graduated from Stanford with his law degree. Dean had to play about a million gigs in order to get the ticket to fly to California to watch his little brother graduate from college. Only to find out that he'd have to fly back out in six months to be best man at his wedding.

Maybe that's why he's so fucking broke all the time; he spent all the money that he could've been spending on rent, on flying back and forth across the damn country.

He shakes his head, he can't blame Sam, of course he can't. He had offered to let Dean stay with them whilst he got a "real" job, but Benny and his band, _Purgatory_ was doing brilliantly, and they were even talking with a couple of record labels and everything, so of course he said no.

God, how he regrets that decision.

Then again, it's not like he could see the future; he had no idea what was going to happen three months later. Not fucking idea at all.

But before his mind can run through that again, he remembers. Sammy graduated from _law_, he's a lawyer now. A big, successful one of the letters are anything to go by. Sam often talked about not wanting any children until he knew he could support them… and in the most recent letter, he told Dean that Jess was expecting their first child, so things definitely must be going good for them.

At least someone in the Winchester family is happy, which is something.

He grins as his eyes refocus on the photo, seeing his arm wrapped around his Sasquatch-size brother, as he's dressed in his graduation robes, diploma in hand. There's large smiles on both of their faces, and Dean can't remember the last time he smiled like that… it was probably at his graduation.

'Sammy's bound to help,' he mutters to himself, before he rushes over to the phone, lifting the handset and dialling Sam's number, before lifting the it to his ear. He nearly hurls the damn thing against the wall when he hears nothing, no dial-tone or _anything, _and it's then it occurs to him that Crowley probably turned his fucking phone line off because he hadn't paid his rent. And he wasn't going to be paying his rent.

'Fucking _dick_.' He hisses before he turns, looking around his apartment. He can't lose this place; he's worked too damn hard to make it what it is; to make it his _home_.

Well, he's just going to have to go somewhere else in order to phone Sammy, and he knows just the place. Somewhere that'll let him use their phone, without asking too many questions.

Dean turns then, moving back over to the door that he had _just _closed, before he throws it open, letting it slide along and then he doesn't even bother to care when it clatters against the end, banging loudly. The momentum causes it to start rolling back, and as Dean reaches the stairs, he looks back to see it's nearly closed and feels that it's good enough for him.

He takes the stairs two at a time, finding it annoying as hell that he's on the seventh floor, which is the opposite of helpful at times like this.

By the time he bursts onto the streets of New York, he's panting hard and barely able to stand upright. God, he needs to do something about how unfit he is. Right now, however, he has bigger problems to deal with, and that's why he steps forward, shouting out as he raises his hand to stop the first cab that he sees.

'Where to?' The driver asks as Dean opens the back door and slides into the backseat.

'Uh, y'know _Harvelle's Roadhouse _on 179th Street? Lovely little country-style bar.' Dean says, and he quietly sighs when the driver nods his head, merging back onto the road and heading in the direction of the _Roadhouse_.

He drums his fingers against his thigh, cursing New York's traffic as he does so, because the whole journey takes fifteen minutes on foot, and here he is, getting stuck in traffic. Why the hell didn't he just walk it? That would've made more sense.

Then again, sense isn't one of his strongest points, he realises with a snort. The driver looks into the mirror, and Dean's eyes move to gaze out the window when he notices the confused look on the guy's face. He's probably wondering why the hell he was snorting; probably wondering why the hell he let Dean into his cab in the first place.

'Bit early for a drink, ain't it?' The driver questions, and Dean turns his head, looking over the backs of the front seats to see the clock that's on the dashboard.

_2:15pm_, and he's just up. God, his life is so pathetic.

'Not going for a drink,' he mutters instead, not about to let the driver know exactly why he's going to the _Roadhouse_, nor about to tell him that he wouldn't even be up right now, if it hadn't been for that asshole banging on his door.

That's so fucking sad, and he knows it.

The driver hums but doesn't say anything else, and the drive to the bar is surprisingly quiet for the rest of the journey. Normally the taxi-cab driver's couldn't shut up, always wanting to know what their passenger was doing and what their passenger's aunt's cat was called. It was pathetic.

But this one, this one seems to sense that Dean's not really in the mood to talk - something that Dean thinks a lot of them can sense, but chose to ignore - and doesn't say another word to him after that.

Not until they pull up outside the bar, and he turns his head over his shoulder to look at Dean, after putting the car into park.

'That'll be twenty-five dollars, man.' The driver informs, and Dean swallows hard. _Why _did he think it was a good idea for him to get a cab to the bar, and _how _did he manage to forget that he doesn't even have a cent to his name?

'Uh, yeah, about that…' he rubs the back of his neck, giving the driver a small smile, who narrows his eyes in return. Right, Dean knows that expression. He's most definitely not a softie that's going to let Dean out of the car alive without paying.

With this in mind, Dean goes to reach into his pocket, his fingers wrapping around his wallet, but instead of pulling it out, his free hand comes up and tugs the door handle, throwing the cab door open, even as another car comes flying up the road beside them and nearly crashes into it.

He runs around the car as fast as he can, heading for the bar, thankful that he got a head start on the driver. He doesn't hear his footsteps pounding against the pavement until after a few seconds delay, and that's all Dean needs right now.

He bursts into the bar, not even stopping to see whether Jo or Ellen were about, he continues to run, hopping over the bar and crouching down behind the wood, blocking him from the view of anyone that wasn't behind the bar.

His green eyes look up, and he finds Jo looking down at him with an expression that's mixed between amusement and confusion.

However, before she can ask Dean what the hell he's doing, the door flies open and the driver storms in, moving straight over to the bar. His hands thunk down on the wood in front of Jo.

'Where is the asshole?'

'Well, if you ask me, he's standing right in front of me.' Jo retorts, crossing her arms over her chest after throwing the towel she was using to dry the bar down.

Dean smiles, having to fight back the chuckle that is desperately trying to claw its way free. Instead, he bites the inside of his cheek in order to make sure nothing breaks free, and waits for Jo to deal with it.

'Watch your tongue, girl. He didn't pay his cab fare.' He snarls and even Dean is tempted to reveal himself, to punch this dude in the face. No-one talks to Jo like that.

However, he knows that Jo will take care of herself. She's learnt it from the best after all.

'Well, I think your eyes are deceiving you. No-one ran into the bar, looking for a hideout from you. Trust me. Now, get out before I decide to _make _you.'

The taxi driver chuckles, leaning forward as he places his hands on the bar. He crowds as close to Jo as the bar will let him, feeling more annoyed when Jo doesn't shrink away from him, or even flinch. 'I'd like to see you try, Doll.'

Dean's eyes flicker up to see the confrontation, hoping to God that the guy doesn't decide to look down, otherwise he's going to see Dean, crouched on the floor beside Jo, looking like he's hiding from him for not paying his fare.

Thankfully, Jo doesn't let him have that possibility, for she pulls the gun that they keep for situations like this, from the first shelf behind the bar. She cocks the shotgun, pointing it at the man and letting the barrel push up against his chest.

Dean bites his lip as he takes a deep breath in, because when the gun comes out, that's when he knows Jo is _pissed _and the last thing he needs is Jo being pissed at him. He's already got Crowley, this asshole, and half of New York City crying for his blood, he doesn't need his sister being mad at him too.

'I suggest you _leave_,' Jo advises, her voice a soft growl that has shivers running down Dean's spine. His eyes flicker back up to see the guy slowly backing away from Jo, moving so that the gun is no longer pressing painfully into his chest, and he takes a deep breath in when he hears him mutter about "stupid bitches and their faggots," before he hears his footsteps lead to the door.

He doesn't release the breath until he hears the door swing shut and when he opens his eyes - which he can't remember closing - he finds Jo staring down at him, shotgun slung over her shoulder and eyebrow raised in questioning.

'Care to explain?' She questions with a small smirk on her face, and Dean rolls his eyes before accepting the hand that she extends out to him. She tugs him up, craning her head then in order to look him in the eye. 'I mean, it's not the first time you've used this bar as a hiding place, but it's the first time someone's _followed_ you in. What's up Dean-o?'

Dean rolls his eyes at the nickname, but opens his mouth to answer. However, before he can even get his mouth open to speak words, there's another voice coming and he can't help but grimace, his eyes and mouth snapping shut as he does so.

'Joanna Beth Harvelle and Dean Winchester! Just what are you two playing at?' Ellen's voice seeps into the room, her voice that perfect mix of annoyance and exasperation, at a shout-but-not-a-shout that only a mother can make.

Dean opens his eyes, turning around to face Ellen with a wide smile on his face.

'Ellen!' He exclaim, walking over to pull her into his arms, finding it comforting when her arms wrap around his back. Good. She's not _that _mad then. 'Good to see you!'

'Don't try to charm me, Dean Winchester.' She replies, pulling away from his embrace and forcing back the smile on her lips. 'I know you too well for that to work. What the hell is happening?'

Dean sighs, reaching up to rub the back of his neck with his hand, 'I couldn't pay my cab fare and the dude chased me in here, and Jo… got him away for me.'

'With the gun.' Ellen snaps, her gaze turning to her daughter then, who immediately takes the shotgun off her shoulder and tucks it back into the shelf she got it from.

'Sorry mom.' Jo replies once she straightens up again. 'I know what you say about -'

'Oh, you remember that talk, do you? The one about how you're not supposed to wave that gun about just because someone is a bit rude? Or how you could point it to the wrong person and end up getting _shot yourself_? Don't you remember what happened to your father, or have you just chosen to ignore that as well?'

'He was threatening to hurt Dean! The last time I checked, the gun was there to protect family. Dean is family.' Jo explodes, and Dean is thankful that the bar is pretty much dead except for the regulars, who are so used to this kind of argument, they don't even look up from their drink.

He bites his lower lip when Ellen moves closer to his daughter, retorting to that statement with a shout of how "not every situation needs a damn gun to be solved!". Just as Jo is about to reply to that, Dean steps in between them, remembering why he's here in the first place, and why he can't let this go on any further.

'Look you've both been through this a million times before, seriously, you all get it. Now, can I use your phone? I've got to call Sammy!'

This catches both Jo and Ellen's attention, and they turn away from their glaring match in order to face Dean.

'Why do you need to talk to Sam?' Jo questions, crossing her arms over her chest in that way that Dean knows means, "I'm curious and I'm going to get to the bottom of this, so help me."

Dean's not about to admit this to them without hearing Sam's point of view first, because he doesn't want to get them both worried if it turns out to be something that Crowley can't actually do.

So, with this in his mind, he just shrugs and declares, 'I can't talk to my brother, no?' before he turns on his heel, walking through to the back room, where the stairs are that'll take him up to their apartment. He climbs them with a lump in his throat, realising that he's actually going to phone his baby brother, ask him for advice and then find out whether he's going to lose the home he had worked so hard to build.

Not to mention he didn't even tell Ellen or Jo what was wrong; why he needed to talk to Sam, and they're not idiots. They know the difference between him _needing _to call Sam and _wanting _to him. They'll know that this isn't a call just to check up on his brother; see how work is and how Jessica is, and when the baby is due. They know that it's nothing like that he's going to be asking, and he really shouldn't have lied to them.

But he just doesn't want to worry them.

Well, that's what he tells himself.

When he steps into the room where they keep their phone, he has a quick gaze around, seeing that everything is pretty much the same as normal; the photos of Jo and Dean and Sammy, from when they were kids and teenagers. The one good photo of Dean and Benny as they played their first sold-out gig. The photo of Sammy when he got his law degree is there too… along with the only photo Dean's ever seen of Bill Harvelle.

Everything is the exact same way and he wonders why he's still staying in an apartment that doesn't _look _like home, only feels it, when he's had countless offers to take the room that Ash moved out of nearly a year ago.

He shakes his head, taking a deep breath as he walks over to the sofa, taking a seat next to the phone before he picks it up and dials Sam's number, hoping that he's actually in. He never really thought about it before, but Sam could be working and he could just get Jess, and as much as he loves her, Dean needs Sam's expertise right now.

Luckily, it's Sam's voice that seeps in through the phone, 'Hello?'

'Sammy. It's Dean. I need some help.' Dean opens, not even bothering to ask how he or Jess are getting on. Right now, he doesn't have time. He's got to be out by the end of the week, and seeing as it's fucking _Thursday_, he needs to get a move on. He needs to know whether Crowley can actually do this or not. 'Crowley's told me to get out by the end of the week. Can he do that?'

The line is silent on the other end for a good few seconds, and it isn't until Dean prompts him that Sam actually clears his throat and Dean can just imagine him shaking his head, automatically slipping into the big hot-shot lawyer that he is.

'Depends.'

'On?' Dean murmurs, rolling his eyes because _seriously_? This is the best he can do? This is what he's like with clients?

"Can you get me off with murder?"

"Depends"

God, his brother is great.

'Well, what's his grounds for evicting you? He can only do that if you've broken the terms of your contract - even though I doubt there actually _is _one, there's still a psychological one between tenant and landlord. If you haven't broken any terms, he can't throw you out. So… what's his reasoning? Did you set fire to something or did you just piss him off?'

Dean opens his mouth to answer that question, but then closes his eyes for a split second and decides against it. He's not in the mood for that conversation just yet, so he decides to change the subject completely.

It's what he's good at anyway.

'But can he just turn up at my door and tell me to get out?' Dean questions, hoping that Sam will get so wound up on the law side of things he won't notice that Dean never answered why Crowley's trying to throw him out.

Then he'll thank Sammy for his help, hang up and he'll never have to have that conversation. Everyone wins.

'He really should offer a notice, but like I said, it all depends on what you did and why he's evicting you,' Sam explains and before the words are even out of his mouth, Dean knows exactly where the conversation is heading again, and he can't help the grimace that pulls at his face. 'So, what did you do, Dean?'

Dean reaches up with his free hand to rub the back of his neck, biting his lip anxiously as he tries to think of a way to phrase this.

'I… I may be a little behind on my rent.' Dean answers, hoping that just explains everything and that Sam will ask no further questions.

But of course, he should've known that it wouldn't have been that easy. His brother is an inquisitive pain in the ass.

'How far is "little," Dean?' Sam prompts and Dean bites his bottom lip, worrying at a bit of dead skin with his teeth as he does so.

He mumbles the answer, keeping his voice low and quiet and hoping that he realises how Dean feels about saying it aloud, and decides not to press any further.

Once again, he should've known it wouldn't have been that easy.

'_What_? I couldn't hear you!'

Dean takes a deep breath in, before he releases it with an equally loud sigh.

'A year.' He admits, his voice loud and clear, and there's no mistaking that Sam's heard him this time. 'I haven't paid this past year's rent!'

There's a beat of silence. Where Dean can't hear anything on the other side of the phone call; not even Sam's _breathing_, and he wonders if he's actually, finally, broke his brother this time with this revelation.

But then Sam starts, and nope, he didn't manage to break him this time. At all.

'Are you being _serious_? How do you miss a year worth of rent? Paying rent should be a top priority Dean! You don't just _forget _to pay rent… that's… how is that _possible_? Jesus, I'm actually surprised Crowley hasn't thrown you out _before _now! If you were my tenant you'd've been long gone; like nine months gone! He's got stuff to pay too, Dean, how is he supposed to do that when people aren't paying him his rent?' Sam snaps, and he doesn't stop. He keeps going on and on about how wrong it is that Dean apparently "forgot" to pay rent, even though he didn't forget. He knew when he was supposed to pay it… didn't mean he could afford it though.

It isn't until he starts going on about how Dean made a mistake moving out to New York does something snap within him, and Dean finds himself standing from the sofa, phone pressed hard against his ear, as if thinking the fore will reach Sam and hurt him.

'Sam, do you want to shut up and help me? Otherwise I'm hanging up; I've got enough to deal with, without you being pissed at me. Now do you have any _good _advice, or are you just gonna shout at me some more?'

He hears Sam take a deep breath in, calming himself down and Dean takes that as a good sign. Okay, he's planning on offering advice, and is planning on stopping the ranting. Good.

'Right, I can't exactly do anything to help you, because well, it's the businessman against the bohemian, and that never ends well. But there could be one or two things you could do to change his mind; make him realise that evicting you is a hasty decision.'

'Like what?' Dean retorts, sitting back down on the sofa and thanking whoever the hell is listening, that Ellen or Jo haven't gotten curious enough to come and listen to his conversation.

'Well… you could get a roommate; someone that's there to half the rent with and someone you can lean on. Y'know financially and mentally. I reckon that'd convince Crowley to let you stay, because he's more likely to get _something _from two people rather than one.' Sam explains. 'Not to mention, Benny's room is still lying empty.'

The mention of Benny seems to break Dean and he shakes his head, 'No. No fucking way. I'm not bringing some stranger in just to share the load.'

He keeps muttering "no" any time Sam tries to talk him around, and apparently Sam can't take it anymore, for he snaps, 'Look, Dean, it's this simple. You either end up homeless, get a roommate or you sell Baby. Those are your choices.'

Dean swallows hard. He really doesn't like the idea of living on the streets; he knows what that does to people and knows that they're not friendly _at all_. And the idea of selling his baby; his beloved guitar, is enough to make him feel sick. He can't sell her. She's the only thing he's got.

Not just of value, but that's his. That's well and truly _his_. That holds so many emotional memories and what he's making his life out of.

He can't sell her.

He just can't.

Dean grinds his teeth together, closing his eyes as he tries not to start arguing with his brother over something as trivial as this. He's got a fair point and well, he did like having Benny around.

'Fine,' he declares, his voice sharp, and if Sam didn't know how hard it was for his brother to agree to this, he would've laughed at his tone. 'How the hell do I go about getting a roommate?'

* * *

_**please review!**_

_**~Charlotte.x **_


	2. Chapter II: Raging Winds of Change

_**Here's the next chapter! :D**_

* * *

**Chapter II: Raging Winds of Change.**

Dean slams the door in front of the asshole's face, before he turns and leans his back against the door. He closes his eyes as he throws his head back against it, not even wincing when pain shoots through his skull from the bang.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_!' He hisses, each word punctuated by a sharp knock against the door with the back of his head. Pain settles behind his eyelids and when he finally reopens his eyes his vision is just a little blurry, but it's nothing he concerns himself with. Instead he pushes away from the door, moving around the apartment with a deep frown on his face as he tries to think of what the hell he's going to do. He picks up the odd thing, magazines, guitar strings and picks, and puts it back to the place it's supposed to be in. Though he doesn't really keep an organised house anyway.

'"It's easy to get a roommate, Dean",' he murmurs under his breath, pretending to mimic his brother's voice, even though he makes it higher pitched that it actually is, and infinitely more whiney. '"You'll have no problem. There's always people looking for apartments in New York, Dean! They'll _flock _to you!", yeah, you didn't fucking mention they'd either be psychos or boring bastards!'

He throws a magazine onto the table at the very end, trying to get his anger out in any way that _isn't _punching a hole in the wall, before he collapses onto the couch and runs a hand over his face. How the hell is he supposed to find a roommate when the people that come to him are down right _weird_?

First of all there was Victor, who seemed pretty damn cool until the second he declared he was a cop, then things shifted almost immediately. Dean's had more than a few run-ins with the law and he's never _ever _forgot about it. Not to mention, there are times when the musician life doesn't exactly equate "legal" activity. He knew that he couldn't have a _cop _living with him; not with the history of his and Benny's life, not with the fact he's so far behind on rent he's on the verge of being thrown out if he doesn't find a roommate by the end of the week. Not when he's got a pile of weed sitting visible in his room and he's so glad the tour didn't involve showing him his own room, otherwise he'd be in a cell right now. So he just tells Victor that he'll call him to let him know if he's successful before he crumples up his number and throws it in the bin as soon as he's shut the door.

After that there had been Gordon, someone who had seemed to understand him to begin with. How he was also a lonely artist who couldn't fit in anywhere. Dean had fond himself growing fond of the idea of sharing an apartment with him… that was until he mentioned the fact he left his younger sister all alone in the streets of New York in order to make it himself; that he hadn't been in contact with her ever since he had decided to make a go at this life. If there's one thing Dean appreciates and needs more than anything, it's his family. If he thought for a single second Sam couldn't get by without him, he'd be straight to California without a second thought and wouldn't give a damn about his own life or dreams. And he couldn't live with anyone who didn't see that, so that ruled out Gordon.

There had been a few others in between that too; an English chick who hinted that she survived by stealing anything she needed; another English guy with blond hair and a totally ridiculous name that Dean can't remember, who seemed like a right, forty-carat douche that totally didn't like Dean, and so he couldn't even understand why he was interested in the apartment. And then there was Jo, who popped by asking if she could have the room in order to get away from her mom.

Dean rolled his eyes and told her no, but offered to let her stay anytime she needed to get away, even if it was just on the couch. She grinned, gave him a cuddle and a kiss on the cheek, before telling him that the right person was going to come along, and that he wasn't going to lose his apartment. He just had to wait.

Dean sighs, throwing his head back so it rests over the edge of the couch and he lets out a groan. What the fuck is he supposed to do? At this rate he's _never _going to find anyone. He's got no fucking chance of keeping his home.

He interviewed about fifteen people and there was only _one _that he would've said yes to - in fact, he had every intention of saying yes to her - but fate was apparently determined to land Dean with a murderer or something for a roommate, instead of a cute redhead that called herself Charlie. She was obsessed with Star Wars, Star Trek and everything else that Dean loved himself. She was a nerd who wore graphic t-shirts and quotes tv shows, and as soon as she walked through the door, Dean could just picture the countless conversations they could have had. He hadn't been so sure about anyone since Benny stumbled into his life.

But like he said, fate was a cruel son of a bitch and couldn't let him have anyone half-decent. She was happy with the apartment and happy with Dean, so she asked him to use his phone to call her girlfriend and let her know. Dean said yes - Crowley having replugged his landline, which was rather a miracle - and sat patiently by as she called her girlfriend, Dorothy.

He knew something was up when the usually bubbly and unable-to-shut-up girl he just met fell silent. A second later she gave a loud shout of "yes" and after some more gushing, she hung up the phone before turning back to Dean. Turns out her girlfriend had been planning on asking her to move in tonight, but didn't think Charlie'd be looking for a new apartment.

Dean was disappointed, sure, but he congratulated her on the big step in the relationship and ended up agreeing to her offer to meet up for lunch next Wednesday, as well as to call her if he doesn't find anyone and ends up on the streets - she was certain that Dorothy would let her live with them, seeing as she also had another wanderer called Gilda under her roof.

But other than Charlie, he's had no fucking luck whatsoever, and he's got no doubt in his mind that Crowley is going to throw him out in three days.

Dean lifts his head and pulls himself off the couch, heading towards the door with the plans of heading to the _Roadhouse_ to see Ellen and Jo, have a small drink, and then phone Sam to let him know that his big brother is going to live on the streets… or maybe even going to the nearest gun store.

However, the second the door is open, he stops, biting his lip as he turns back into his apartment and heads over to his own phone, leaving the door ajar.

He dials Sam's number, sighing once more as he sits down on his couch and debates whether this is a good idea or not. Sure, a good drink sounds really bloody awesome, but he can't go down that road. He saw what using substances as support did to you… he couldn't go down the same road as Benny. He just couldn't.

So, that's why he settles himself on the couch once more, where there's no alcohol whatsoever because he downed it all when Benny died, and couldn't afford anymore after it. And it was also why he was phoning Sam because his little brother could talk him out of it, and well, he deserved to listen to Dean's ranting after his stupid comments.

'Hey, Sammy.' Dean mutters the second he hears Sam's voice filter down the phone.

'Dean? How's it going? You found anyone yet?'

'No, I haven't,' he says thinking that he maybe shouldn't tell Sam the trouble he's having, then he decides that he's not getting away that easy, he needs to feel some guilt, 'and I don't think I will! Everyone in New York is either a freak or crazy. Sometimes a mixture of both.'

'You've got plenty of time, Dean.' Sam states, and Dean can hear Jess talking in the background, and he smiles when he hears her voice telling Sam to tell Dean that he's welcome to stay with them till he gets back on his feet. 'And y'know -'

'I heard Jess, don't worry, but Sammy, I can't afford to come to California even if I wanted to. It just looks like I'm going to be homeless for a while; it's all good, Sam. Seriously.'

'Dean, I'm not letting my brother be homeless, I'm just-' Dean is distracted by Sam's tirade when there's a knock at his door. With a frown on his face, Dean lifts his head to see who's at his door only to find a man standing there, a piece of paper in his hands and a satchel strung over his shoulder.

His bright blue eyes meet Dean's, and for a moment, Dean can't believe that eyes could be so _blue_.

The stranger raises his hand in a small wave, before he lifts the bit of paper in his hand and shows it to Dean. Dean's eyes widen in recognition when he sees that it's the flyers he made for the spare room.

The large bolded print of "_ROOMMATE WANTED" _stares back at him and he can't help but wonder what kind of fucked up personality this guy is going to have… even though he _looks_ normal. Though he did have some air about him, it wasn't the kind that creeps him out. But his luck hasn't been good so far.

'Dean? Dean? Are you there? Dean!'

'Uh, I'm gonna have to call you back, Sammy. Something… uh, something's came up.' Dean murmurs into the phone. He doesn't even say "goodbye" to Sam, and doesn't even wait for Sam to ask what the hell is happening, or give him time to comprehend what the fuck is going on, and hangs up on him.

He stands the second he has hung up the phone and walks over to the door with his eyes still wide as they rake over the man, from his dark messy hair to his _thighs _that are clad in dark, skinny jeans.

'Uh, can I help you buddy?' He questions, even though he knows _exactly _why he's here after seeing the flyer he had made. _Good one, Winchester_, he hisses to himself, having to stop himself from rolling his eyes because that wouldn't look good either, would it? Maybe this stranger isn't the weirdo, maybe it's him.

'I saw the flyer you had put out and I'm wondering if the room is still available?' The stranger declares, and holy shit, how can a voice that deep come from someone like that? He doesn't even look like that kind of person; he looks like someone who should have a light, airy voice. Not for the first time, Dean wonders how he's real. Dean feels a smirk tugging at his lips at the stranger's gravelly voice, but he somehow manages to fight it back.

'Uh, yeah, c'mon in. You can have a look around.' Dean declares, moving away to let the stranger enter the apartment. His head is cocked to the side as he walks in, examining the room and Dean finds he can no longer hold back the tiny smirk on his lips. 'I'm Dean by the way.'

The stranger turns his head back to him, a smile pulling at his lips before he tucks the flyer into the tan satchel over his shoulder.

'Dean? I'm Castiel.' He replies as he refastens his bag, before he returns his blue gaze to Dean.

'_Castiel_? That's a weird name… mind if I just call you Cas? It's easier.' Dean replies, the smirk on his lip widening as he watches a smile tug at Castiel's own lips.

'It's from the Bible, and yes, that'll… I've never had a nickname, before.' He admits after a moment, and Dean frowns at him, watching as he reaches up and rubs the back of his neck rather nervously at that declaration.

'A name like that and no-one has ever shortened it? Either your friends are douches or-'

'I don't really have any.'

Dean stares at him for a moment before he clears his throat, looking around the room with his lower lip sucked in between his teeth.

'So, why do you want to move in here?' He questions, deciding to change the conversation because right now, this is heading down a road that Dean really doesn't want to deal with right now. Especially when the dude is still a stranger to him.

'I… I was thrown out of my old one.' Castiel admits and before Dean can even question _why _he was thrown out, even though it doesn't really raise any warning bells because hey, this wouldn't have been the first apartment he would've been thrown out of either, Cas is changing the subject. 'Where is the room? Through here?'

He takes off in the direction he waves and before Dean can even get his thoughts together, he's pushing the door open and stepping into the room.

'Oh, is this yours?' Cas questions when he stops and sees that the room is still decorated, with clothes sprawled over the floor and posters still on the walls. He looks over his shoulder to Dean, who looks like he's just seen a ghost, his face white and his eyes wide open.

'No… that's… that's Benny's, the guy who used to have the room. I just never got around to, uh… I'm sorry.' Dean mutters before he shakes his head, moving over to stand beside Cas. 'I'll clean it out for you.'

Cas turns his gaze back to Dean, and he thinks about asking whether or not that means he's got the apartment, but then he thinks that there's no point in asking that just now. He's literally _just _got there, Dean's surely got more questions to ask him before he'll even _think _about offering him the room.

'How much is it a month?' Cas questions as he slowly walks out of the room, moving back into the living room and letting Dean move out in his own time, and shut the door behind him.

Dean walks up so he's standing in front of Cas once more.

'It's five-hundred a month. But we'll, uh, be paying a year behind.' Dean admits before he reaches up and scratches the back of his neck nervously. He only told Charlie about the situation about the apartment and the fact he's a year behind, because he thought she was going to be move in. No-one else looked good enough to bother telling them that information… but Cas, well, he has a _good _feeling about Cas.

'What? Why? That's not really the norm for apartments in this area… or in general, in fact.'

'The truth is after Benny was gone, I couldn't afford _food_, let alone rent and Crowley said it was all right… until people started breathing down his neck and he had to start collecting. It was either sell the only thing that'll make me money one day or get a roommate… so here I am.' Dean admits, waving his hands around the room for emphasis. 'Look, if you don't want to stay here 'cause of that I understand that, don't worry.'

'Would… would you rather have that paid off first?' Cas asks and Dean frowns because _that's_ his first question? It's not just saying "thank you for your time" and heading to the door? He's actually asking about whether or not he'd like that paid off?

'Uh… if I could actually afford it, I'd love that. But did you miss the bit where I said I can't even afford _food_?' Dean gives him a soft chuckle in reply, but when he finds Cas' eyes once more there's something serious behind them; something determined.

'I can pay it off. A faith payment for your landlord so he realises that things are going to be okay.'

Dean's mouth falls open and his eyes almost bulge out of his head at Cas' words. How… he's just… _what_?

'Dude, that'd be six _grand_. If you've got that amount of money on you what the hell are you doing looking for a roommate… or for somewhere to _rent_. You could buy a place with that!'

'I _could_,' Cas smirks, 'but I had a place like that and I ended up getting thrown out due to some… circumstances. I've got reasons for this choice, Dean, and I wish to live here… if that's okay with you.'

Dean doesn't say anything and merely continues to stare at Cas.

'I have just a little bit more than that in my savings. If you want me to I _will _pay whatever you owe so that things start fresh between us. But if you'd rather we slowly work our way back up to recent times, then I'm willing to do that too.'

Dean clears his throat, looking away from Castiel. He lets his green eyes flicker around the room as his hand reaches up to rub the back of his neck.

His gaze returns to Castiel after a moment, and when he does, he clears his throat as a soft smile tugs at his lips. He doesn't really know why he's smiling, well, okay, yeah he does. No-one has ever offered to bail him out before. No-one has ever considered doing something that _huge _for him before, and it's… weird. Sure, it's nice, but it's weird because people just don't do nice things for him. That's not the way the world works. But it's also a _good _weird. He's just not sure he can accept that.

'Uh, look that's nice. It really is, and I actually can't believe you'd _think _of doing something like that, let alone seriously mean it, but the thing is, you didn't live here when the debt was run up. That's on my head and technically my roommate's who was actually still alive at the time but was spending his money on,' he stops himself dead, because can he tell this stranger that? Not many people knew that about Benny, and the last thing Dean wants to do is taint his memory. 'Other things,' he decides on, before he shakes his head. That'll just have to do. 'So, thanks for the offer man, seriously, but I think it's best if we just do it this way. I'll pay back a little more - if I can manage it anyways - each month, and you'll just pay your half. I'd rather have that than have you pay _my _debt. That's not a good way to start being roommates, is it?'

Dean grins at him and he wonders if the man is going to protest; wonders if he's determined to pay off Dean's loans. But instead, he just nods his head and Dean lets out a sigh of relief. Good. He managed to make himself clear, didn't hurt Cas' pride and somehow managed to put a smile on his face.

Why the hell was there a smile on his face?

Dean opens his mouth, ready to ask him where the smile came from, when Cas suddenly clears his throat, the smile disappearing as he turns his head back around to look at the flat. Dean frowns at the sudden change, but doesn't say anything about it. He merely waits for Cas to say something first.

'Is everything else included in the rent? Electricity, gas, phone bills?' He enquires and Dean wonders how one minute he can be talking about paying off his debt, and then the next enquiring what comes included in the price of rent. The changes of conversation is giving him whiplash, but the way things are going, he better get used to the feeling.

'Yeah. Crowley's good when it comes to _that_.'

'And what's this "Crowley" like in general? I'll always believe that every landlord is an asshole… I just want to know what _kind_ of asshole this one is.'

'He's a douchebag.' Dean answers straight away, before he realises that it doesn't _really _explain what kind of guy Crowley is. 'He's sarcastic and thinks he's funny. He calls himself the King of New York, even though he's not even stepped a foot out of Alphabet City. But sometimes he has his benefits. He's got connections. Back when Benny and I were just starting out, he got us into a few clubs to get our name around. I guess _that's _why he calls himself the king. But other than that, he's an asshole, and I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him - which isn't very far, he packs a few extra pounds.'

Dean finishes ranting and it isn't until he's ran through all that he said, that he remembers he actually _wants _Cas to want this apartment. He doesn't want to scare him away by the idea that their landlord is going to be the biggest dick ever.

'This isn't the only apartment building he owns, is it?' Cas questions and there's something in his voice that Dean finds peculiar. Something dark and dangerous at the very idea of Crowley owning other apartment buildings, which is strange in itself.

'No, he owns one on Avenue B, and I _think _he has one of Avenue D, but don't quote me on that.' Dean admits, shrugging his shoulders because he's just heard rumours about him owning something on Avenue D. He's not actually seen it with his own eyes or asked the douche himself.

'He does.' Cas declares and Dean can't help the frown that pulls on his face, because if Cas already knew, why did he ask? But Dean's not about to get into that right now. He's just met the dude, and by the way things are going, he's going to be sharing an apartment with him. For a long time, probably. Hopefully… _hopefully _where the hell did that come from?

He shakes his head.

Either way, he's got plenty of time to figure Castiel out. He doesn't need to do it within the first hour.

'D'you have any other questions?' Dean asks. ''Bout the apartment or building or area, or… me?' He adds the last word almost hesitantly, because he's not sure if that's just going to look weird or what, but he's already said it and now he can't take it back. Even if he wishes he could, because Cas' eyes are narrowed and fixed on him, and no matter how hard he tries, he can't fucking_ read _the expression on Cas' face.

'What do you do?'

'What… do I do? Like, work wise?' Dean clarifies and when Cas nods his head, Dean bites the inside of his cheek before replying. 'I work at a bar, _Harvelle's Roadhouse_.'

'As a bartender?'

'Yeah. They're family friends and it's not exactly the best paying job, but it does, and -'

'You pick up some spare money busking.' Cas cuts him off, finishing the sentence for him and Dean frowns at him. He's about to ask how the _hell_ he knows that, when Cas smirks and points towards the guitar that lies on the couch. 'Most people who play an instrument in this town busk. I just thought it was an obvious deduction.'

Dean tears his eyes away from Baby, turning back to Cas and suddenly he's curious about him and what he does.

'What do you do?'

Cas' eyes meet his and he doesn't say anything, not for a good moment or two. Their eyes remained locked on each other in the silence, and Dean feels the room growing warmer and it's definitely not because Crowley decided to turn his heating back on.

Dean frowns at the avoidance of his question when after another minute passes= Castiel still hasn't answered his question. He didn't think it was _that _personal, and after all, isn't that a decent question to ask? He needs to know that he'll be able to afford half the rent. Though he did mention earlier that he had nearly six grand in his bank, so Dean has no doubts that he won't skip or miss on payments.

He clears his throat, eyes breaking away from Cas' as he does so, and when he lifts them to meet his gaze once more, he's made his mind up.

'If you want the room, it's yours.' He states, not even bothering to phrase it any other way or try and ask anymore questions. He was pretty damn certain that he was going to get the room ever since he saw him at the door. He just had a feeling about him… as weird as that sounds.

Cas' entire face lights up. His eyes widen at the news and his mouth breaks into the widest smile that Dean has ever seen on a person. There's a beat of silence before he starts laughing with relief and happiness, and Dean finds that he can't help but join in.

'Thank you. _Thank you_!' Cas repeats until Dean just shakes his head and tells him it was no problem. He thinks about adding that he had pretty much made the decision to give him the room the second he saw him, but decides that's just over-sharing.

'So I'm guessing you want it?'

'Of course! When can… when can I move in?'

'Whenever you've got your stuff ready.' Dean declares. 'I can leave the door open so you can go back and get your stuff, then come back. That'll give me time to clear some of Benny's stuff out.'

Suddenly the happy expression is gone from Cas' face and Dean wonders what he said wrong.

Before he can prompt him, however, Cas is already explaining, 'Well, everything I own is in my satchel.' He pats his tan bag that's strung over his shoulder, and Dean's eyes zone in on it. It's not the biggest bag he's ever seen, and he seriously can't see how Cas can say _all _of his possessions are in that small bag.

He doesn't say anything on it, though, even though he finds it weird. Dean's green eyes mainly flicker over to Benny's room, gnawing on his lower lip.

'Well, that's fine. You can stay tonight then, but is it all right if you crash on the couch? Just for tonight until I get Benny's room sorted out.' Dean questions and he wonders if this is going to sound really selfish, because there's still a perfectly good bed in there. He just doesn't want Cas in that room with Benny's stuff.

Cas nods his head, 'Of course.'

Dean grins, a wide smile as he waves his hands out around the room, before he extends one towards Cas for a shake.

When Cas grabs ahold of it and gives it a firm shake, he states, 'Welcome home, buddy.'

* * *

_**Please review!**_


	3. Chapter III: To the Struggling Bohemians

_**Enjoy! :D**_

* * *

**Chapter III: To the Struggling Bohemians.**

Dean stops the second he stumbles out of his bedroom and finds Castiel lying comatose on the sofa. It takes the briefest of minutes before he remembers just why there's a random dude lying on his couch, pieces of paper strewn around him and a notepad that had fallen to the ground, obviously from Cas' grasp.

Dean shivers when the cold air of the apartment hits him, and he hisses through his teeth as he walks over to the heating. He picks up the first thing his fingers reach as he makes his way over to the ancient piece of equipment, which just so happens to be a green jumper. He tugs it over his head, sighing as it immediately starts to make a difference to his temperature.

He raises his hand and gives the heating box a sharp bang, before his eyes widen and he turns back to Cas, ready to apologise for waking him up.

However, instead of seeing Castiel sitting upright, he's still lying on his side, arms tucked under the pillow on his makeshift bed. He has shuffled and shifted a little with the noise, but still remains fast asleep.

Dean can't seem to stop the grin that tugs at his lips.

'Heavy sleeper, I guess.' He murmurs under his breath before he turns back to the box. He pulls open the door, gritting his teeth when he realises that the problem isn't with his box, it's from the mains, meaning that that _dickhead_ Crowley must have turned it off, just to fuck with him.

Or maybe… just _maybe _the whole building is experiencing problems with their heating, and it's not just Crowley being the biggest fucking douche to ever walk the earth.

Even though he doesn't believe it for a second, Dean makes his way over to the door, stepping onto the landing and walking over to his next door neighbour, knocking on the door three times before waiting.

'Dean, what are you doing here? Checkups are usually on Fridays.' Krissy grins at him the second the door is open, folding her arms over her chest as she leans against the frame of the door.

Dean rolls his eyes at her, taking in what she's wearing; the usual tank top and flannel shirt, with jeans. That really gives nothing away to Dean about the temperature inside her apartment, seeing as that's what the young woman always wears - whether it's winter or summer.

'Funny, you'll know about that when you end up dying and no-one finds your body.' Dean retorts, reaching up to ruffle her brown hair that is - surprisingly - not pulled into a ponytail.

She gives a shout in protest, moving away from his reach and looks at him with a soft glare on her face.

'Is your heating working, kid?' He questions, deciding that she probably wants to get back into her apartment. He still can't believe that a nineteen-year-old is making it in New York. He knows she stays with her three close friends, Josephine, Hael and Claire, but still… she's braver than he ever was at that age.

Hell, there are still times when New York City scares him.

'Yeah, it's roast toasty. Why?' Her features soften for a beat, before they mould into a glare once more but this time it isn't directed at him. 'Crowley shut it off, didn't he? What a _dick_! We need to do something about him.'

'Well, he's probably just pissed that I found a roommate and now he can't throw me out.'

'Woah, back up, he was gonna throw you out?' Krissy questions, and whilst he definitely wants to fill her in on what's been happening, seeing as she's like Jo - the little sister he never wanted, but seemed to get anyway - he really needs to get back inside.

'I'll tell you about it on Saturday at the bar, kid, I just needed to make sure it was actually Crowley before I went and broke his nose.' He goes to turn away, but before he can fully turn another thought pops into his head and he turns back to her. 'You four are good, right? You don't need any help?'

A soft smile pulls at Krissy's lips as she tilts her head to the side, her arms falling from their position of being crossed over her chest.

''Course we are. I'd let you know if we weren't.'

He nods his head before he envelopes her in a hug, resting his head briefly on the top of hers before pressing a soft kiss there.

'See you later, Krissy.'

He moves back to his apartment, grinning to himself as he shakes his head in amusement when he realises that Castiel is still fast asleep on the couch. Though he's moved even more now, curling in on himself and it's apparent that the cold is starting to get to him.

Dean bites his bottom lip before he walks over to Benny's room. His jaw clenches as he looks around himself - he really needs to clean this out tonight - but he keeps his goal in his mind. He walks over to his bed, stripping the duvet from its place on top of the mattress.

As soon as it's bundled up in his grasp, he moves back out to the living room, careful to shut the door behind him so he doesn't have to keep looking inside it.

Castiel is only covered by a thin little blanket that he had obviously brought with him, seeing as Dean can't recall ever owning something like that, and it's obviously not doing a very good job at keeping him warm.

So, Dean swallows hard before he covers Cas with the duvet, spreading it over him and tucking it just under his chin, grinning to himself when the man immediately grabs ahold of it and buries his face into the warmth of the covers.

Dean goes to move away from him, to let him sleep as he goes to deal with Crowley, but before he can get that far he catches a glimpse of the notepad he had spotted earlier lying on the floor by the couch.

He moves over and picks it up, deciding to place it on the table by the sofa so that Cas knew where it was, before he went and dealt with Crowley. However, as soon as he picks the notepad up, his eyes can't seem to stop themselves from trailing over the first line that's been written in a really beautiful and elegant scrawl.

"_His touch is soft as it trails down her spine; cool, cold fingers brushing against the chiffon fabric of her shirt. Her breath hitches despite herself, but she pulls away from him, shoving herself away as he puts distance between them both."_

Dean frowns to himself, finding that there's something special about the style of his writing, which is saying something because Dean knows his books; knows whether or not something has potential or not… well, potential for him anyway.

He can tell from the first sentence whether or not he's going to keep reading, and despite the fact that this is Castiel's work and he's not even been given permission to read it, he can't seem to stop himself.

He moves around, the notepad clenched in his hand as he wipes the table clean, throwing the several scraps of paper and rubbish onto the floor, before he sits down on the glass table, folding his legs under himself as he starts to read it from where he left off.

Dean doesn't mean to read more than a page, but as the drama grows between the man and the woman, soon growing to a vicious fight between the two, he finds he can't stop himself. He keeps turning and turning the page, until he's suddenly got nothing else to read as the page goes blank on the next turn.

'No fucking way.' He snaps as he starts to flick impatiently through the notepad, looking for signs of the next part - that maybe he had just started it off on a different page when he was tired and sleepy.

But nothing.

'I haven't written any more yet.' Castiel's gravelly voice declares, and Dean's eyes widen as the snap towards his new roommate. He's vaguely aware of the fact that his voice is even deeper and rougher than it was before, having been drenched with hours of sleep.

His hair is in disarray and when Dean's green eyes meet Cas' vivid blue ones, he finds that there isn't any annoyance or such in his gaze. His head is titled to the side, sure, but there's not much else.

Dean folds the cover of the book over, folding it so he can no longer see the writing and instead just sees the standard cover, a frown on his face. He clears his throat and extends it out towards Castiel.

'I'm sorry. I, uh, I didn't mean to… sorry.'

Castiel takes the notepad back without another word, giving Dean a small, one-shouldered shrug in response.

'It's not a problem. I guess I should be thankful you enjoyed it enough to keep reading.' Cas replies as he opens it up to the first page, his eyes flickering through the various lines, a frown appearing on his face as he does so. 'Though I don't see how you _could_ enjoy it.'

He throws the notebook on the table, letting it land on the table beside Dean with a soft thud.

Dean looks between the notebook and Castiel, a deep frown on his face as he tries to think over his statement, before he shakes his head as he decides to focus on Cas.

'You don't like it?'

Cas shrugs again, his hand coming up to comb through his hair as he stifles as yawn.

'I like the idea, but… I don't know, it could be better.' He murmurs as pushes the covers away from his person, looking at them with a look of confusion etched on his face. 'I didn't fall asleep with this.'

'Uh, no,' Dean reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. 'I put it over yo this morning, it was… our heating isn't working.'

He doesn't know why he feels like blushing - why he actually _is _blushing, as he can feel the warmth spread against his cheeks - and he actively ignores how easily it was to slot "our" into that sentence, as if it was always just them.

'You didn't tell me you were an author.' Dean says, deciding to change the subject, deciding that he's not quite ready to face any of those facts. He just needs to think of something different right now, and not about how easy it is to fix Castiel into his life already.

Cas studies him for a long moment, blue eyes raking over his face, moving from eye to eye, from lips to nose to lips again, before they refocus on his eyes. As soon as their gaze connects, he seems to see something deep within Dean's emerald eyes, for he clears his throat and doesn't even ask or think about the covers after that.

'It didn't come up.' He answers, as he pulls himself into a better position, sitting upright as he pushes the covers away from his person, bundling them in a pile on the empty seat of the sofa.

Dean doesn't say anything for a bit, mostly because he's wondering if Castiel has a really bad memory because he can distinctly remember asking Castiel what he did for a living, just after Dean had admitted to working at the _Roadhouse_ and working as a busker.

But he's not in the mood for an argument, and seriously doesn't want to get on Castiel's bad side - though he's not going to admit that aloud.

'And anyway,' Castiel is talking again, speaking out a thought that must have popped into his mind as Dean was busy debating whether his roommate didn't listen to him yesterday, or has the worst memory of all humankind. 'I wouldn't really call myself an author; an author usually gets _paid _for the work they do. I normally just create stories that never see the light of day.'

'That's a shame.' Dean replies, his eyes landing on the notepad that still sits in Castiel's hands, and he finds that he wants to pull it from his grasp and reread his story again. 'It was really good, Cas, like… really good. And believe me, I know good books.'

'You do?' The words slip free from Castiel's mouth before he can stop them, and as soon as he realises he has said that aloud, his mouth snaps shut with an audible clatter, and a pretty red blush decorates his cheeks. 'I am sorry; I didn't mean anything, I swear…'

Dean just shakes his head with a chuckle, 'You're not the first person to assume that I'm stupid. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm not as smart as my little brother, Sammy; _he's _the genius of the family, but… I'm not as stupid as some other people would believe.'

'I didn't think you were stupid, I just didn't imagine you the kind to enjoying reading. I just…' Cas trails off with a shrug, when he realises that he's just digging himself into an even bigger hole; one that if he keeps talking, he won't be able to climb out of.

'Vonnegut's my favourite, but I've read enough in my time to know what works for me and what doesn't, and trust me when I say - because I don't bullshit or sugarcoat things - you're stuff has all the working potential to be published and be a best seller one day.'

Cas ducks his head, his eyes finally breaking away from Dean's face to study the now very interesting sight of his notepad. His eyes trail over the black and grey paper of the front cover, trying to stop the heat that is creeping up his neck and spreading across his face.

Thankfully, Dean doesn't say anything to him about it, and doesn't even seem to have a twinkle in his eyes about causing any mischief when Castiel finally lifts his head and meets Dean's gaze again.

'And besides, just because you don't get paid doesn't mean that you aren't an author. I'm sure many people would protest to calling me a musician. I mean, I work at the _Roadhouse_ most of the time, if I'm anything, I'm a bartender… but whenever someone asks me, I say musician because it's what I _want_ to be.'

'You didn't tell me that first. You said you just worked at the _Roadhouse_.'

'Yeah, well, I didn't exactly think you'd take the flat if you didn't think I made any money. I was at the end of my tether, I didn't think I was going to find a roommate and thought I was going to be living on the street, and seriously, you were the only person who I actually _wanted _to move in with me.'

As soon as Dean realises what's come out of his mouth, it is his turn to blush and duck his head, but Castiel, sensing his embarrassment doesn't say anything about his previous statement, despite how much he wants to. He wants to know what made Dean want to convince him to move in - so much that he was willing to hide his dream to convince Cas to stay.

He wants to know, but he knows that Dean doesn't want to say, so he just puts a small smile on his face and murmurs, 'I guess that's true. But I still wouldn't call myself an author.'

Dean rolls his eyes, a scoff breaking free from his lips and he puts it to the back of his mind that there's still red decorating his cheeks.

He is about to say something in reply when there's a knock at the door, and both of their heads whip around to the large metal door with frowns on their faces.

'Dean?' Krissy's voice comes through the door, and when Dean realises that it's her, he calls at her to just come in. He doesn't expect for Krissy, Hael, Claire and Josephine to come wandering through the threshold, stepping into his apartment after sliding the door open.

Dean immediately goes into parent-mode and stands from his seat on the table, turning to them with his frown deepening.

'What's wrong?' His voice is laden with such concern that Cas finds himself turning to look at Dean instead of the four teenagers in front of him, surprised and warmed by how much concern Dean has for the girls.

The girls, however, don't seem to be so warmed for they all either roll their eyes or let out a groan of annoyance.

'Calm down, _dad_.' Josephine rolls her eyes. 'Krissy told us about your roommate, and we just came through to meet him.'

Dean - who had _just _felt the heat on his face finally fade - feels his cheeks warm up once again, his jaw clenching as he tries top figure out what the hell to do with that.

'Dean?' Claire's voice cuts through his thoughts, and he turns his gaze back to the blonde, before he forces a smile onto his face.

'Uh, right.' He moves away from standing in front of Cas, so that the girls can see him and when he can, Castiel stands from his seat with a small smile. 'This is Castiel. Cas, this is Claire,' he points to the blonde, who looks to be the youngest of them all. 'Her girlfriend, Hael,' he points to one of the brunettes, who has eyes as vivid and blue as Castiel's. 'Then there's Krissy,' Dean points to the other brunette who wears a smirk that reminds Cas of an old friend of his so much that his heart aches. 'And her girlfriend, Josephine.'

The dark-skinned girl raises her hand in a wave, whilst the other three murmur a "hey" in reply.

'It's nice to meet you. How long have you been living in Alphabet City?'

'Josephine and I have been staying here since we both lost our parents when we were seventeen. Hael and Claire came a year ago.' Krissy answers. 'But we're one big family, aren't we, Dean?'

'Oh yeah, me, the horrible foursome and Jojo, that sounds like a great family.' Dean rolls his eyes, a smirk appearing on his face as he does so.

'"Jojo"?' Castiel questions with a small frown on his face.

'She's like my little sister. Jo Harvelle; her mom owns the _Roadhouse_.' Dean explains, before he turns her gaze back to the girls. 'So, what else did you want other than to ogle my new roommate?'

Hael starts to make a noise of protest, but a look from Dean kills it on her lips.

'I know you four, what d'you want?'

'D'you have food?' Hael is the one to answer him, and when both Dean and Cas just look at her, she rambles on, 'We thought we had stuff, but a, uh, rat got in and the stuff we had isn't good anymore. And we don't have enough money between us to buy new stuff, so yeah… do you have food?'

'I asked you earlier if you were good or if you needed anything and you said no!' Dean accuses Krissy, who raises her hands in surrender.

'Woah, I said that I'd _let you know_ if we needed anything. Now, I'm letting you know.' Krissy protests.

Dean looks between each of the four teenagers, meeting each of their gazes for three seconds each, before moving on to the next one. When he's met all of their gazes, he turns to Castiel, remembering that he has a roommate now, he needs his approval before he goes and starts making breakfast for fifty-thousand.

He doesn't think that Cas will understand his gaze, hell, the only person who seems to understand the various looks in Dean's eyes is Sam.

Surprisingly though, Cas nods his head and says, 'We can't just let them starve now, can we?'

'I like him already.' Claire declares as she grabs ahold of Hael's hand and pulls her further into the apartment, plopping them both down on the sofa, making themselves at home.

'Same here.' Hael answers, her eyes flickering up and down his body, examining him with curiosity. 'Though I must say, you look familiar. What did you say your last name was?'

Cas only hesitates a slight moment, his eyes that are so similar to Hael's meeting hers a second later, 'Novak.'

'Novak?' Hael's eyes narrow only slightly, but it's not enough for anyone else to notice. There's a beat before her eyes relax and she shakes her head. 'Haven't heard it before, must be thinking of someone else.'

The briefest of smiles flicks onto Cas' lips, before it falls off as he turns back to Dean, who was now being steered into the kitchen by Krissy and Josephine, each who had their arms hooked through each one of his.

'So what's on the menu?'

_~oOoOoOoOoOo~_

Dean sits with the guitar on his lap, face turned towards him as he fixes one of the strings that had broke the last time he had played it. He pulls the string free, glaring at it as he throws it on the floor and picks up the new one. Another five bucks gone that he couldn't afford.

'The things I do for you, Baby.' He murmurs as he starts to thread the string through the hole.

'Did you say something?' Cas enquires, as he lifts his head upright, turning to Dean with a frown on his face. Dean turns his head to gaze back at him, the answer on his tongue when he finds he can't get a word out.

His green gaze greets the sight of Castiel's lips wrapped around the pen he was using to write only moments ago. Dean's eyes zone in on the sight of those plump yet slightly chapped lips wrapped around the thin body of the body, and he totally does _not _think about adding bananas to the next shopping list.

'Dean?'

The pen is removed from between Castiel's lips and Dean clears his throat as he closes his eyes, trying to get that sight out of his mind, though this seems to help _sear _it into his brain instead.

'Uh, no, I was just talking to Baby.' He answers, turning back to the guitar that lies forgotten on his lap.

'"Baby"?' Castiel smiles wide, and Dean totally does not think about those little crinkles that appear at the corner of his eyes, giving away the fact that the man was older than Dean was - but not by much. 'I'm sure she makes all your girlfriends jealous.'

'Oh yeah, all the time. They know I dig their curves, but Baby's is the only ones I truly love.' Dean runs his hand down the curve of his guitar's body for extra emphasis, which draws a chuckle from Cas. 'And both the gals and the guys seem jealous of how well I can finger her.'

He turns back to Cas, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively as he sticks his tongue out at him, only to have the joking expression fall off his face a moment later when he's greeted by a shocked expression.

'_Fuck_.' He whispers. 'Look, I didn't mean to - like, I understand if you're weirded… in fact, no I don't, but I still want you to stay… in fact, no I don't want that either. If you're one of those stuck up, shoving-religion-up-someone's-ass Uptowners, then I don't want you staying in my apartment. I'd rather live in the streets.'

Cas' eyes widen in worry, before he's standing from his seat, hands fluttering around him like a worried and lost kid.

'No, no, no! You misunderstand! I… I just… never… I'm in _that _spectrum. I'm uh, demisexual.' Dean's face suddenly goes from challenging to blank, and so Cas realises that he needs to explain himself more. 'It means that I, I don't normally experience sexual attraction unless I've got a strong emotional connection with them; whether they're female or… male.'

'Huh. I never knew about that.' He grins at Cas. 'You learn something new everyday, I suppose. Though that's _got _to be a bitch. Can't get it up unless you've got a strong emotional connection?'

Cas shrugs. 'I don't want to get it up for just anyone, so it doesn't really bother me.'

He turns and sits back down on his seat, picking the pen up once more as Dean returns to restringing Baby, though their gazes do flicker to each other every now and then.

He's not sure how long they sit in silence for, but judging by the fact he's managed to restring Baby _and _get her tuned, it's got to be about ten minutes.

'Y'know,' he starts up, turning to watch Cas to make sure he's actually listening to him. The older man looks up, sitting his pen on top of his notepad before he turns his entire body in the chair so that he's facing Dean; his _entire _attention is now on Dean, just with one little word.

Dean's not sure how to feel about that.

'Some of us are going to the _Roadhouse_ on Saturday; well, the four freeloaders next door, Jo will be there, I'm thinking about inviting someone who was interested in the apartment - her name's Charlie and she's pretty cool - and her girlfriend. And just a bunch of other people that I'm sure you'll meet at some point.' Dean's eyes fall away from Castiel's then, just before he's about to get the words out. God, since when does he have a problem asking people to a bar with him? It's not like it's a _date_ he's asking Cas out on. 'I was just wondering if you wanted to go. Get to know the guys and that; feel more included whenever they drop by, 'cause days like today with people randomly showing up… that happens a lot in my life.'

Castiel doesn't say anything, not straight away anyway like Dean had been expecting, so he finds himself scrambling to add, 'You don't have to. I just thought I'd ask you and even if you don't want to go, y'know, it was to let you know as well.'

A small smile pulls at the corner of Cas' mouth, almost as if he enjoys seeing Dean flustered and worked up, and Dean doesn't really know how he feels if that's true. Then again, he's sure that something like that could also be a lot of fun… and no, he is not having thoughts like that about his new roommate!

'Saturday? To meet the people who's like your family? Yeah, I think that sounds like a lot of fun.' Castiel mutters, nodding his head in affirmation. 'Besides, some embarrassing stories may come up that I could use as blackmail later on.'

Cas can't help but laugh loudly when Dean's face falls first, before his green eyes narrow in playful warning.

'Oh, so you think you can play with the big boys? Huh? Oh, we'll see about that.' Dean declares, before he turns his attention back to Baby, safe in the knowledge that Cas has no idea what he's planning on doing, and the best part is, has no idea when he's going to do it.

_~oOoOoOoOoOo~_

'This is miles away from the apartment, Dean! You told me it would only take five minutes!'

'Oh quit complaining, we're nearly there.' Dean retorts as he buries his hand further into his leather jacket, trying to hide them from the bitingly cold air of New York City.

'Why didn't we just get a cab?' Cas whines as he pulls the lapels of his trench-coat, tugging it around his person for the same reason as Dean; New York really was a bitch when it was cold.

''Cause I nearly got killed the last time I took one; but then I forgot that you're apparently a millionaire.' Dean rolls his eyes. 'I still don't understand what you're doing staying with me when you've got that much money in your bank.'

'It's not in _my _bank. I would've had to jump through a lot of hoops for that, but I was willing to do it for you.'

Dean stumbles, apparently forgetting how to work his feet when he hears Cas' statement, but luckily, Cas' hands fly out and steady him, stopping him from landing flat on his face.

'So… _you're _not rich, your family is?' Dean guesses and when Cas just shrugs once more, Dean takes that as confirmation of his presumption. He lets out a low whistle in reply which makes Cas clench his jaw so hard a muscle twitches.

'Why leave that and live the bohemian life? I mean, I'm up for anyone who's a struggling anarchist bohemian…' Dean trails off when something occurs to him and he nods his head slowly, '_that's _why you're not with them. They don't approve of who you really are.'

Cas' lips quirk in a humourless smile. 'Got it in one.'

'Well, you've definitely come to the right place. Jo grew up without a dad, I grew up with an abusive dad and a dead mom, Krissy, Josephine and Claire lost their family when they were just entering teens, and Hael had been passed from foster home to foster home. This isn't the Avant Guard… it's the Dead-Beat-Family Club.'

'I should fit right in then.' Cas murmurs with a sarcastic smile on his face, before he nods his head across the street. 'That's it right?'

'Yeah.' Dean murmurs, wondering how the hell Cas got them here, seeing as Dean had been so preoccupied with playing twenty-one questions with Cas's life that he missed the alley to turn down to take them to the bar.

Cas starts to cross the street, apparently unaware of the confusion that Dean's experiencing, but after shaking his head, Dean follows him a moment later, deciding that it's probably just coincidence. It was a popular bar… it's just, if Cas had been there before, Dean would have saw him.

'What should I expect, by the way?' Cas questions just before they enter the _Roadhouse_.

'Jo will act friendly but will silently be testing you, Ellen won't be friendly until she's sure you've passed. The girls already know you, so they'll be on your side; Charlie and her girlfriend are new just like you, so chances are they'll stick by you. Ash is like a big genius puppy with a mullet. You'll be fine, though. Like I said, Dead-Beat-Family Club.'

Dean doesn't give Cas to adjust to that and pushes the door open. He pushes Cas in before himself, letting everyone's head snap around to him first, frowns on their faces until they see Dean walk in beside him.

'Guys, this is Cas. Cas, this is… the Club.'

'Oh, so you're the new member? What do you have? Dead parents, abusive ones or maybe even both?' Jo mutters, a wide smile spreading across her face as she sets the cloth down onto the bar, momentarily forgetting about wiping it down like she was doing before.

'Uh,' Cas turns his head to Dean, wondering if he should really answer, and when all Dean does is shrug before taking his jacket off and hanging it up, Cas realises it's up to him. He decides to answer her. 'Dead mom, runaway dad, dead best friend and unsupportive and abusive siblings.'

'Wow.' Jo lets out a low whistle, that reminds Cas so much of Dean's just moments before. How could they _not _be real siblings? 'That sucks. C'mon and get a drink, Cas.'

_~oOoOoOoOoOo~_

'Dean! Get up and give us a song!' Ruby shouts, having joined the party only ten minutes after Dean and Cas had. 'I'll be your drummer if you want!'

Dean has every intention of telling her no, but when everyone in the bar starts cheering for him to get on the stage - Cas included - he finds that he can't let the entire bar down.

'Right, c'mon Minnie-Mouse.' He grins as he downs the remainder of his beer, before hopping off his stool and walking over to the stage. He doesn't like playing any guitar other than Baby, but he didn't bring her with him tonight, so instead he's stuck with the shitty one that Ellen kept for anyone who felt brave enough to get onstage.

Ruby slips in behind the drum kit, after giving Dean a sore punch for calling her the nickname that she hates. When she's seated, Dean moves in front of the mic and pulls the guitar over his head, setting it up and adjusting it so it's good. He plucks each string, testing to make sure they're in tune and fixing them if they're not, and as he does this, Dean turns and watches Cas take shots with both Jo and Ellen.

He can't help but let out a scoff of laughter when he knocks back six shots of tequila in one go, and mutters after it, 'I think I'm starting to feel something.'

Jo and Ellen share a look before they dissolve into laughter, Jo wrapping her arms around Cas' shoulders, using him to keep her upright, and that's when Dean realises something.

He really got lucky with having Cas as his roommate. And it's with this thought in his mind, does Dean pluck the first chord after Ruby's count-in and starts to play.

* * *

_**Please review!**_


End file.
